Happily ever after
by Evil Herbivore
Summary: Life is just one long Slytherin fairytale.


Happily ever after  
  
Once upon a time there was a boy, who was so beautiful..  
  
.No. That's not the right way to start a story, not this one at least. Oh, certainly the boy had been beautiful. But he had also been willful. And there had been a wicked parent and an evil wizard. But this fairy tale shouldn't start like that.  
  
He had been strong; he had always been the strong one, not me. Of course, I didn't let anyone know that. I suppose to the other Slytherins it was obvious, but they never told anyone. Not many people realise how loyal Slytherins can be to one another given the chance and the right circumstances. It's not blind, honest loyalty like the Gryffindors but the loyalty of a house who have no one else to rely on apart from themselves, no one to fall back on. Let one person down, let one person slip and it might mean everyone would. It was a desperate, fierce, dangerous loyalty. No one gets in.  
  
We'd been aware of each other before Hogwarts, although we'd never met. Meeting him in the first year had been a bit of a shock; he was so different to how I'd imagined him to be. Getting to know him over the next few years had come as an even bigger surprise. Who would have thought it, thought that he would feel the same way as me.  
  
On the outside, no one would have been able to tell we were even friends. We occasionally acknowledged each other, but rarely spoke and had lives that didn't seem to include each other.  
  
He was at ease with all the years, had a large group of acquaintances but no close friends, he was confident in himself. While I was still battling my internal daemons, trying to come to terms with my own childish impulses and desires. Pretending was easy, the other houses believed that there was a battle of egos between him and I, that Slytherin wasn't big enough for the both of us, that we were too proud to acknowlage each other's presence. It was easy to let them think that. Pretending always comes naturally to me, after all, I'd been pretending that I didn't find Potter attractive for years. The only time I couldn't lie was when I was alone with this beautiful Slytherin.  
  
He knew that being associated with me might damage his family's reputation and I was quite happy to keep the whole thing quiet, after all I was getting what I wanted, who cared if it was a secret?  
  
So in dark corners of the common room, in locked dorm rooms under tangled sheets, in the prefect's bathroom shrouded in heavy perfume. On the fringes of the forbidden forest bathed in moonlight and dark green, in stone hallways cloaked in darkness we discovered the beauty and reality of personal truth.  
  
By stolen touches, lingering looks, hundreds of different emotions and a million kisses I got to know him.  
  
I was deliriously happy, I didn't even know such a state was possible outside of those stupid muggle fairy tales, the ones where evil is vanquished and everyone lives happily ever after. I started to think I was in a fairytale.  
  
Our last few years of Hogwarts passed in a blur of flushed skin and breathless anticipation. While Voldemort was on the rise and my father talked to me about fighting against the muggles, we were locked away in our own little secret world. Hogwarts was left behind and the world descended into chaos and we took no notice.  
  
But my father did. He was concerned. Nearly all of the Slytherins in our year were fighting for Voldemort. All except for me and him. He had refused to fight, it wasn't that he cared especially for muggles, but rather he didn't care. His family had never felt threatened by muggles or mud-bloods; he didn't care, he didn't really understand the values behind the war, thought of it as a pointless waste of life. And so did I. Over the years he had changed me, not forcefully, but through his thoughts, his ideals. He had never hated anyone, can you believe it? Although, he didn't really pay anyone enough attention to formulate an opinion of them. Apart from me, he paid attention to me, and for that I will be eternally grateful. Me. Grateful!  
  
So we went away after Hogwarts, we didn't run, but we didn't get involved. My father was not happy. We heard all about the war from various sources, Harry Potter and his order were winning, if you could call it winning. It seemed strange to him that 'our people' were fighting to destroy the very blood they depended on for survival. Without muggles there would be no new blood and the Wizarding race would die out, you can only marry off so many purebloods before problems arise. If they succeeded and the muggles were destroyed or banished from our world, within a few generations the only pureblood wizards left would be squibs. What's the point of living in a magical world when no one can cast even a simple spell?  
  
And we were happy, for a time. But then one day the evil wizard looked into his magic mirror and saw that two of his kin were not supporting 'The Cause'. That even though they were the sons of powerful pureblood families they had chosen their own path. This made him angry and the wicked father was told to amend the situation. The evil wizard had seen to it that any pureblood family who were against his great plan were destroyed, or would be destroyed. The Weasley's had been the first to go. So far the beautiful boy's family had been spared, due to their prominence and use as allies should they be persuaded to fight, for up until now they had managed to remain neutral. But now the wicked father sent forth an army of 'messengers'. The family was wiped out in a single day. When he heard the news the beautiful boy was distraught and vowed revenge upon the Dark Lord and those who surrounded him. I'd never really understood why this boy had been put in Slytherin, he was so very different from all of them, but now I understood. The rage and determination and desire to achieve his will was written in his eyes, in his every movement, in the pulsing of his blood through that pureblood heart . It was terrible to behold. He could have been great if he'd have put his mind to it.  
  
I begged him to stay, and I've never begged anyone for anything. I tried telling him that it was a trap, that they wanted us to get involved but he didn't care. He went and I followed him. As I have always done because he was the strong one and I didn't know what to do without him.  
  
It was a trap. As I knew it would be because I know my father, even if I don't understand him. He was angry with me for not fighting and at him for 'leading me astray', my father never did understand that I was lead willingly.  
  
When the beautiful boy confronted the evil wizard's minions he laid waste to them, I don't think they realised his power and underestimated the determination of one so desperate. The evil wizard recoiled to safety with my father. I didn't care about killing death eaters; I was just trying to protect my saviour.  
  
Then things got worse. Believe it or not. Aurors stormed the building, hundreds of them. And at the very centre of the maelstrom was Harry Potter, wild eyed and dangerous, looking for revenge of his very own. In a whirlwind of light and stone and blood they swept the rooms. My beautiful boy was killing death eater and auror alike in his quest to find the evil wizard. He was unstoppable, clearing his own path, performing (it seemed to me then) some morbid dance with bloodshed and fury as his orchestra, torn clothing and shattered furniture the roses thrown at his feet. As I stepped over one audience member, I paused, bending down to gingerly pull back the red stained hood only to have the glassy, un-blinking eyes of Vincent Crabbe stare back at me. I nearly threw up; we had been close friends, once upon a time.  
  
All it took was that one moment's hesitation, that thirty seconds of not sticking to the beautiful boy's side, and he was gone. Harry Potter stood over his body like a vulture. It seemed my saviour had made the mistake of killing one Hermione Granger. Her body lay a few steps in front of me, cheeks flushed and wand still in her hand, an unfortunate stray who had crossed his path. I couldn't believe that he had done such a thing, he who had talked of needless death and unnessesary waste.  
  
He was the strong one. Without him my whole world slipped away, I had nothing left to hold on to. I didn't even think, I don't believe you can think in moments like that, you just do. So in blind, unfeeling despair I rushed forward.  
  
It's funny really, thinking about all those Gryffindor vs Slytherin Quidditch matches where I longed to catch the Snitch before Potter but couldn't because he was just too fast, all the times he beat me because he always saw me coming, knew exactly where I was. Well Harry Potter didn't see me coming this time until it was far too late. He just wasn't fast enough. I'll never forget the look on his face that split second before, how those green eyes widened in surprise (he always did have such nice eyes). Something akin to sadness flared within them just before they closed forever, and I realised what I'd done. I hadn't even thought, I didn't care that it was Harry Potter, I'd given up on that stupid rivalry a long time ago, all I cared about was that he had just killed my beautiful boy. But now everything hit me, not only was he dead but I'd just killed the one person who had every chance of destroying the Death Eaters and my father.  
  
I waited. Waited on the cold, debris strewn, floor, surrounded by death for whatever was coming to me. I didn't know what else to do. I was happy just to sit there and wait for someone to deal out the appropriate judgement; I'd wait forever. But hands pulled me up and took me to some dark room where I was pushed into a chair. There was a voice from the darkness; it thanked me for destroying its enemy, that I would be rewarded, if I chose to join them. Maybe it was the sight of blond hair that spurred me into action, hair haloed in the gloom by a few dying candles. I knew it had been a trap, they had lured my beautiful boy there so I would fight, they meant for him to be killed. And I had helped them. By killing Harry Potter.  
  
It's strange how easily killing comes after all your senses have been dulled, all your happiness stripped away. I killed because I didn't care, because it was the only thing to do.  
  
Blaise. That was his name. A beautiful name for a beautiful boy.  
  
So I, Draco Malfoy, killed the most powerful dark lord for a century, but I didn't care.  
  
The evil wizard and the wicked father were vanquished. That's how all good fairy tales end. Only this time no one lived happily ever after. 


End file.
